


maybe

by lester_sheehan



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lester_sheehan/pseuds/lester_sheehan
Summary: “Then how about we put these groundless charges to a vote?” A short drabble.





	maybe

“This man, this—this _beast,_ has plotted for far too long. Just last night,” Cicero said, straightening indignantly, “I had assassins come to my home. The home where my wife, my _children_ , sleep. If I had not been passed intelligence, who knows what may have happened. Who knows where we would all be now."

He went on like this for a while, slaughtering the name of Lucius Sergius Catilina as easily as steam may be smeared from a glass. Catilina sat alone, arms crossed, leaning back as though he had not a care in the world. And perhaps he didn’t.

The minutes passed, and the other senators were now clinging to Cicero’s words, willing themselves to believe this derailing of the man they already disliked. Cicero ended dramatically—as he so often loved to do—and bowed his head solemnly, as though the whole ordeal pained him.

And perhaps it did. The consul’s face was so pale nowadays that one may assume he had never stepped outside, and his eyes were encircled with a deepening redness.

“Are you done?” Catilina said, one delicate eyebrow raised. He brushed a dark curl from his face and leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees. “Have you ruined me enough?”

Cicero withdrew slightly at Catilina’s casual address, at the edge of weariness that laced his voice. “I believe you managed that quite well yourself.”

Catilina shrugged. “I offered myself into your custody just last month.”

“And had I accepted, perhaps there would have been no need for last night’s assassins. The deed would already have been done.”

With a gentle shake of his head, Catilina said, “Then how about we put these groundless charges to a vote?”

Cicero laughed, but the quietness of the Senate clearly unnerved him, and the sound was nowhere near as indifferent as he had hoped. “So you may bribe the jury?”

“So that we may end this ridiculous feud.” The smirk had dropped from his face.

Entirely aware of the countless pairs of eyes that flit between himself and Catilina, Cicero began to feel his stomach turn. “Feud?” he scoffed. “You planned to have me _killed._ You, Curius, Cr—” He stopped himself quickly, knowing that he was getting lost in his anger. To mention Crassus’ name—or, perhaps even worse, Caesar’s—would be equivalent to kneeling down and offering them his throat. “You had it all planned,” he breathed, hands shaking. 

Catilina smiled. “Perhaps you should have taken me up on my offer all that time ago. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed the idea of this,” he paused, then exhaled the word like smoke, “conspiracy.” He was deadly calm, like a predator waiting to deliver the fatal blow. “After all, you even considered defending me three years ago.”

A hushed whisper rose around the chamber. Cicero’s eyes flickered briefly to Tiro’s, then back again. “Well then, Catilina, surely you have done something to change my mind,” he said. “Surely you have done something to deserve my blame.” His indictment sounded feeble, even to him.

Pushing himself up from the bench—the speed of his movement made Cicero jump, and his smile turned into a grin—Catilina tilted his head and said, “Maybe.”

And then he strode from the room, and not once did he look back. 


End file.
